Nothing But Time
by Out-of-Character217
Summary: Squall and Cloud are products of a broken system; rejects of a society that they refuse to fit into. Their relationship is the result: fractured, dysfunctional. Yet it's the only thing that keeps them sane. They belong together but the path they are on is destined to keep them apart and the irony has almost become unbearable. *** Crime AU. Dark Themes.***
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I woke up this morning with the distinct impression of a dream I'd just had. I can't really recall too many of the details but this is sort of what I can remember, and I knew immediately that it would make a fantastic Strifehart fic. I've been writing it on and off throughout the day; mostly during quiet periods at work and when I got home, and the result is something quite staggered and fractured. But I sort of like that about it, so I decided not to edit it too much. There will be a second chapter, so keep your eyes peeled. Enjoy. xxx

* * *

 **Nothing But Time**

It's been two years since he's seen him. Squall has been counting the hours. He's been locked away in a cell for so long there wasn't much else to do. Twenty four months in Traverse State Penitentiary has given him time enough to add it all up, and as usual there's a ripple of fear mixed in with his excitement. He doesn't think on it too hard, he knows Cloud will be waiting for him. He always is. But same as always there's that voice in the back of his mind: what if? What if this time he's not there? It's ridiculous really, but that's what time does: it erodes.

They were sentenced on the same day. Both given a long enough stretch. Cloud's already out, on account of some bullshit with overcrowding and a policy on releasing low grade offenders. Lucky bastard.

Squall shakes his head and smirks to himself. Yeah, Cloud will dine out on that for a good long while.

Indifferent to the hard stares of the gate guards, Squall steps over the threshold and crosses the outer perimeter fence, leaving another two years of his life behind him encased in concrete and steel, and he thinks nothing of it. It doesn't matter.

He sees him the moment he scans the parking lot. Bright blond hair is hard to miss and he is leaning up against the side of a Chevy that isn't his. Squall snorts softly and makes his way over. Just like Cloud to turn up outside a prison in a stolen vehicle. It's not exactly a discreet ride.

"I was starting to think I'd got the wrong day," Cloud says as he watches Squall approach, his gaze sliding up and down a tall, lean body, checking his memory and tallying up the differences; thinking how time has changed him. At least physically.

Squall doesn't reply and instead throws his army bag into the back seat of the truck through the open window. Cloud leans a little closer as Squall pulls away.

Not here, his eyes glare, and Cloud straightens up, pushes off the side of the car, and tilts his head. He motions for Squall to get in and they both slide into the truck and drive away without looking back. Same routine, like muscle memory. This isn't their first time and they doubt it will be their last. But they both get a kick out of it. The waiting, the longing. Finally being reunited. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out but neither of them are interested in doing that. They like it this way. It's all they've known.

Squall can sense Cloud wants to take his hand but he keeps up the cold shoulder act. Stares out of the window at the passing fields left farrow for winter. Its chilly, but not uncomfortable, and Squall quite likes the bite of the wind from the open window. After a while he wonders where they're heading.

"So what's the plan?" he asks finally turning to look at Cloud and he feels that familiar ripple. It gets him every time.

"I've got somewhere in mind," Cloud answers cryptically and Squall's eyes slide away to admire the way Cloud's arms look braced against the steering wheel, and the set of his profile against the afternoon light. Cloud's hair is a bit longer and his jaw's a little harder, but essentially he's still the same and despite their time apart Squall feels instantly comfortable in his company. Like no time has passed at all. He's missed this, and instinctively knows Cloud has too. They could always read each other like that. Sharing thoughts without ever saying a word. There has never been anyone else in Squall's life that could compare.

The younger is content to let Cloud drive, happy with the silence and the wind and the passing landscape that gradually shifts from a rural wasteland to sprawling countryside; neatly kept hedges and immaculate pastures. It's nearing dusk when a house on a hill comes into view and Squall realises that's where they're heading. It's partly obscured by a stand of trees and there's a long gravel drive. Behind it sits a lake with a boat house and Squall can tell even from the road that it's empty. He's got a sixth sense for these things. Besides, rich holiday homes are always abandoned for the winter season.

They don't approach from the front. Tire tracks might show up on the gravel. So instead they leave their truck on the side of the road, hidden in a ditch behind some foliage, and they walk across private land to the side of the house. It's bigger up close and Cloud tells him it belongs to some General or Senator or someone like that. Not that it really matters.

They break in through the conservatory. Jimmy the lock and slip into the cold interior.

Squall can tell Cloud's been here already. The security system is disabled. The older man knows his way around, too. Leads them through the kitchens and straight to the parlour and he sweeps the double doors open to reveal their little set up: a couple of sleeping bags, a hold-all of supplies, and a bottle of something strong.

Squall could spend time admiring the paintings and gilt furniture, the expensive Chinese silk rugs and gaudy ornaments - and he will - but right now he walks to the couch and dumps his bag, slumps into the cushions and puts his feet upon the coffee table, muddy boots and all. He plucks the bottle of something strong from the table and cracks it open while Cloud builds a fire.

Squall watches Cloud as he drinks. Finally, _finally_ allows himself time to admire him. There's no stopping the heat and the lust now, and Squall isn't even trying anymore. They're safe. Relatively. Their new home for the night will do just fine, and Squall is looking forward to spending his first night with Cloud in a very long time. He doesn't think he can explain how much he's missed him. Not that he needs to or that he will. Cloud knows anyway.

The fire is burning hot now, and Squall watches the way Cloud stands and stretches. Watches him slip his jacket off and throw it over the back of one of the arm chairs. Cloud sits down on the coffee table right by his feet and pulls Squall's boots off. Gently, he works his fingers through the cotton of his socks and the contact feels good. There's nobody else Squall would allow to touch him so casually.

"We'll head out again in the morning. Go east. I wanna make it to Hollow Bastion before the weekend," Cloud tells him, focusing on his massage. He takes his socks off one by one and runs his fingers up Squall's ankle, under the hem of his jeans.

"What's in Hollow Bastion?" Squall's curious.

"Dunno," Cloud shrugs, "Just never been there before."

Squall lets his head fall back and relaxes into the couch. Enjoys the warmth of the fire and of Cloud's fingers, and takes another drink. He wants to get wasted. It's been a while since he's had the chance.

Cloud stops his pampering and joins Squall on the couch. He takes the bottle and they share it in silence until it's almost half empty, and they're good and liquored up. It's a good feeling. The drink has got Squall thinking and he knows it's a bad sign, but he's under now.

"Missed you," he hears Cloud say out of the blue. It's unusual. Out of character. It's not the way they work and Squall gives him a side long look that tells him so. They spend a lot of time apart. An occupational hazard, and Squall thinks Cloud should know this by now. At twenty one, Squall has been inside more than he's been a free man, and Cloud the same. Especially when he takes Juvenile into account. Cloud is older by six years, but their stories are alike. They mirror each other in so many ways.

"You're not gonna say it, are you?" Cloud looks disappointed and Squall is growing annoyed.

"Say what?"

Cloud frowns and turns away, biting the side of his cheek and takes another drink.

Squall doesn't want to fight, but that's what's coming if he doesn't do something quick, so he swallows down his annoyance and takes the bottle from Cloud's hand. He kisses him, showing him rather than telling him. Making sure it's soft and delicate before it turns hard and needy, just like Cloud likes it, and he tries to ignore how much he's taking for himself. As much as Squall acts like a heartless bastard he can't lie about how much he needs Cloud. How much he hurts when they're apart.

Cloud is given the go ahead he's been waiting all day for, and he pushes Squall back into the couch. The affirmation between them is acknowledged and Cloud is free to take what he wants, knowing Squall will let him and encourage him eagerly. It's strange that despite their dynamic, the boundaries of _this_ are decided by the younger of the two. When it comes to fucking, the ball is always in Squall's court.

Clothes come off quickly and there's hissing and panting and quick, sharp bites of desperate desire. Hands leave bruises and teeth leave marks. Everything is once again familiar and safe and right. The feeling of Cloud inside him, fucking him, holding him the way he's only allowed to while they're doing this, it's everything Squall has been waiting for. Despite never setting foot in this building before in his life, he is home.

It's over quickly the first time. It has to be, considering how long it's been. But it's hard and satisfying and both of them are breathless and sweating. Cloud hovers over Squall, his breath moistening the younger man's cheek and he asks him again:

"I wanna hear you say it."

Squall is drunk enough and satisfied enough to give in, so he turns his head, tightening his hold on the man above him, who's still buried deep inside him, and he brushes his mouth across Cloud's top lip. Whispers what his lover what's to hear.

"I missed you, too."

Cloud is pleased because he smiles. Squall can feel it in the kiss they share. It gives him a warm satisfaction and he idly wonders if other people feel this way. Normal people. He makes the distinction because he's acutely aware that normal people don't squat in other people's houses, though it's all he's ever really known. This is _his_ normal. _Their_ normal. He and Cloud have shared everything since childhood and it makes him feel less alone. Less like a freak.

The passing thought of his youth turns his mood a little darker and Squall nudges his way out from underneath his lover. Reaches for his jeans and slips them on and picks up the bottle of something strong as he wonders over to the window. There's a desk and a chair, covered by a dust sheet and he pulls it off, revealing dark expensive wood. It's beautiful. Squall runs his fingers across the polished surface and carefully sits down in the chair. Leaning back he puts his bare feet up and crosses them at the ankle, watching the darkness outside with vague interest. His focus is turned inwards. After so much time surrounded by other men, the silence and the space is deafening. Squall loves it. Relishes it. He closes his eyes and swims in his drunken thoughts. Inevitably they turn to the past.

He absently itches the scars on his wrists and feels the sensation mirrored in the scar on his face. He shudders a little. Startled by a hand on his shoulder he jumps and turns to see Cloud stood beside him. Still naked. He's never been ashamed of his body and Squall wonders what that must feel like.

"I know that look," Cloud tries to keep things light hearted with a small smile, but it falters. He shares the pain in Squall's gaze and both of them are far from sober. So he pulls on Squall's arm instead, "We should get some sleep."

They settle down on the sleeping bags in front of the fire and immediately Cloud is surrounding him. Holding him. Squall hasn't asked for it but he doesn't protest and he closes his eyes and waits for the dreams.

In the morning they'll pack up. Maybe take a quick sweep of the house and put whatever valuables they can carry into the hold-all. They won't bother to clean up after themselves; whatever evidence they leave behind, they'll be long gone by the time there is anyone back at the house to notice. No one will look for them.

So they sleep and they dream and when they wake again in the middle of the night they fuck. A distraction from the things they should be talking about but have no words for. When morning comes they're tired and hungover. But they leave the way they came: quietly, if a little heavier. And they drive east. They end up in a town they've never been to before. And it starts all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** There'll be another two chapters after this one. Thank you for the reviews and the faves and the follows. They mean the world to me. I'll get round to responding individually to you very soon. Enjoy. Xxx

* * *

 **Nothing But Time – Part Two**

Hollow Bastion is a shitty town. Cloud has already decided and they've only been here a month. But it's got what they need - the right kind of people - and they've nowhere else better to be. They never stay in one place for too long anyway.

Cloud is watching a fight break out across the street. He's bored and it offers some mild entertainment. He's been out here the best part of five hours and he's only managed to pick a couple of pockets. It's enough to cover rent for the next two days, but Cloud hoped he'd have more.

He's leaning against a shop window. The metal grate is cutting into his back and one leg is bent at the knee to brace himself. People are coming in and out of the laundromat. Ignoring the disturbance on the other side of the road. The street is noisy anyway. The whole town never shuts up.

Cloud digs his hands further into his pockets and watches over the up-turned collar of his jacket. _Just walk away_ , he thinks. The fight is escalating and someone's going to get hurt.

Cloud catches the flash of a knife and he knows its game over. One man goes down and the other three run.

It's time to split.

Cloud pushes off the grate and heads west. Doesn't want to be caught hanging around when the cops come. Irony is he isn't guilty this time and he smirks at that.

It's going to take him nearly an hour to get home. They haven't been here long enough for him to know the shortcuts and he figures Squall will be back already so he speeds up and bets himself he can make it in forty five.

Squall's worse these days. Cloud doesn't know if it's the city or if it's something else but he's not the same since Traverse Pen. Cloud knows _he's_ changed too. Something about those last two years really got to him and he's not eager to repeat them. Habits are hard to change though.

He thinks about Squall and how easily they've both slipped backwards. Picked up where they left off. It's comforting in some ways and not so much in others.

The nightmares are getting worse.

Cloud thought he'd always be used to them but two years apart and it just goes to show how much you can forget. They frighten him more than he'll ever admit. Squall pretends like they never happen but he's got the scars on his wrists to say that they do. There's no hiding from those and Cloud's not stupid. He knows there are more than before they both went away.

He doesn't say anything though. Habits, and all that.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Cloud had been in Traverse with Squall. But state correctional facilities aren't hotels and doing time isn't like checking in. You don't get to choose your room or who you share it with. Cloud wonders - not for the first time - how Squall copes in those times. In the night when the dreams come and Cloud isn't there. But that's just another thing he doesn't have the balls to ask. It's not the answers that will scare him. It's the silence when Squall refuses to answer; the hurt because he can't - won't - trust him enough.

At twenty seven Cloud is tired of playing games. He wonders what it would take to turn it all around. Try being normal. More effort than they both have to spare right now, probably.

Thinking about this shit passes the time and before Cloud is aware of it he's made it back to the motel. He checks his watch. Forty five, right on the dot.

It's late and the forecourt is a mixture of shadows and sickly orange light. Cloud takes the steps two at a time and sees Squall sat outside of their room. Breath fogging in the chilly night. Winter is going to be harsh this year. He's drinking again and the door to their room is wide open, letting out whatever heat was in there and Squall is sat slouched against the door frame watching the traffic go by.

"You been out today?" Cloud asks noticing the dark circles under Squall's eyes. The almost empty bottle in his hand. His greasy hair.

Squall shakes his head.

Cloud can't quite suppress a sigh. Looks like his take for the day will have to do, but they won't be eating again tonight. Cloud stares hard at the man on the floor and tries to guess what he's thinking. It used to come easily to him, but Cloud's read on Squall is slipping and it upsets him. That was something he always thought they'd have. Another thing he's taken for granted. Just goes to show that time isn't all prison takes.

Cloud steps over Squall's legs and disappears into their room. Can't quite bring himself to slam the door so he leaves it open and heads to the bathroom. He'll take a shower and go to bed. There's nothing else to do.

He falls asleep a lot quicker than he thought he would but he's woken again in the night by something. He forgets what it is the moment he turns over and feels for Squall beside him and his hand touches empty space. The sheets are warm and damp and he rolls over to see Squall sat on the side of the bed. Back to him. Shoulders hunched.

Another nightmare then.

Cloud sits up and rubs at his eyes; calls out softly:

"Hey."

Squall doesn't respond. That's not unusual. What bothers Cloud is the distinctive smell of blood. It's strong and fresh and Cloud scoots across the bed and peers down at Squall's arms. They're wedged in between his knees and even in the darkness Cloud can see the damage. Squall's clutching the cutter in his left hand and staring straight ahead. Glassy eyed and vacant.

"Shit," Cloud's cuss is a hiss in the quiet and he reaches around and grips Squall's wrist. Slick and tacky with blood and he shakes it. Squall won't let go at first but Cloud shakes him harder and the cutter drops to the carpet. He looks around for anything to stem the flow of blood but can't see clearly in the darkness. He takes his t-shirt off quickly. Whips it over his head and scoots closer up behind Squall, hugging him from behind, and presses the shirt to Squall's forearms.

There's the stale smell of old alcohol and unwashed hair underneath the putrid stench of blood and Cloud holds Squall closer to him. Presses his forehead into Squall's shoulder and waits.

"I can't keep doing this," he admits, quietly, as if to himself. He's not sure if Squall is with it enough to hear him. Squall is still and slack in his arms and Cloud is swaying them both slightly back and forth; side to side, and can feel the pounding of the young man's heart through his back.

Squall flinches. It's only the barest of twitches but Cloud lifts his head. There's another spasm, this one stronger and Cloud holds his breath. Before long the seizure has taken hold and Cloud is clutching tightly to Squall, keeping him from falling off the bed. It only lasts maybe thirty seconds but it's violent and Cloud can feel his how heart race, same as it always does when this happens. He doesn't know what causes them and neither does Squall. He's never been to a doctor. They're something he's learnt to live with since he was a child.

The shaking slows down and Squall becomes slack and boneless. Any sitting balance he had before is gone and Cloud has to lay him down on his side; careful to keep the pressure up on his arms. He nuzzles into Squall's neck and kisses his damp skin. Folds himself around the younger and waits for his breathing to even out.

Eventually, Squall comes round and he moans. He's groggy and he shifts in Cloud's arms. Looks over his shoulder with a confused frown and then back down at his arms. He tries to pull them out of Cloud's hold but the fits always leave him weak.

"Keep still," Cloud tells him, a hard edge to his voice even though he doesn't mean it. Can't help it sometimes.

Squall does as he's told, only because he can't do anything else. They lie there in silence for a long time. Until Cloud is sure the bleeding has stopped and another seizure isn't around the corner. He throws the ruined shirt away.

"You've got to stop this," he says, turning Squall's wrists outwards so he can see them better. They're ruined.

"Don't," Squall pleads. Curls his arm into himself and somehow finds the strength to turn around and push his face into the crook of Cloud's neck. He doesn't want to face this but that's nothing new and Cloud can feel an impotent scream rising up in his throat. He doesn't let it out.

In all the years they've spent together Cloud has never been able to work it out: if he cuts because of the seizures or if the seizures come because of his habit. Either way it all stems from half occluded memories of a fire and his dead family.

It happened when he was five. Too young to recall clearly whose fault it was. Cloud suspects Squall has always blamed himself. The kids home he grew up in could never give him any answers. He asked a lot. And eventually stopped.

Cloud is sixteen when he turns up in Squall's life. His mother had just passed and there never had been a father on the scene. The kids home had been the only solution, and Cloud's offending had been a problem before he'd even arrived. Squall had been ten. A skinny runt if a kid pushed around by the older boys and largely ignored by the staff. Cloud had warmed to him immediately; became like an older brother. A dynamic that had shifted with time, and pressure, and circumstance. Their time apart in their respective prisons notwithstanding, they had been inseparable. Still were. Cloud feels the old ties of love and loyalty pull at his heart and he silently admonishes himself for being overly harsh. He should know better. This isn't Squall's fault. Not entirely. But Cloud is tired and he wonders again what it would take for them both to turn it all around; if they'll ever get to a place where they simply won't have any other choice. And as an afterthought he wonders how long that might take.

Cloud pulls away a little when he notices Squall is trembling and he realises his face is wet. Squall weeps quietly. He'd never cry openly, overtly, or dramatically. It's not his style. And Cloud knows he wouldn't want him to draw attention to it.

So instead he runs a hand through Squall's hair and presses a kiss to his temple. Tells him to shush and not to worry; they'll figure it out. It's what he's been telling him for eleven years. Cloud feels now more than ever the pressure to make good on that promise. He's drowning in desperation.

Eventually Squall falls asleep again and Cloud doesn't want to move him. He'll deal with his wounds in the morning and they'll go back to pretending everything's fine.

What he wouldn't do for somebody to give him the answers.

Cloud falls asleep. Still holding Squall, fingers tangled in his hair. His arm going numb from the weight of the younger man.

They sleep late and don't wake again until it's nearly mid-afternoon and just like Cloud predicts they don't mention the night before. He takes care of Squall's arms and Squall sits in silence, staring at a vacant spot on the wall above Cloud's shoulder.

"I've found a place down town, near the railway track," Squall says eventually, "might get us enough to move to the next town."

Cloud doesn't know about another job. He's been getting a bad feeling for a while but can't say for sure if it's a premonition or the bad vibes between them. It's getting harder to trust himself these days.

"I dunno, Squall," he says shaking his head. He ties the end of the bandage neatly and sits back, "don't you think we ought to lay low for a little while?"

Squall looks at him with an unreadable expression. But it's not kind.

He shrugs and stands, "Whatever."

Squall disappears for the rest of the day and Cloud gives up waiting for him. He's tired anyway so he goes back to bed and tries to catch up on the sleep he's missed. He worries the whole time but his body can't fight his exhaustion. He falls asleep and hopes Squall will be there when he wakes up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Nothing But Time – Part Three**

Cloud has spent the best part of a day and a half searching the hospitals. There aren't that many in Hollow Bastion, but he doubles back a couple of times to see if Squall has been brought in while he's been looking elsewhere. He can't stand still long enough to think what might have happened to him. This has happened before. It's never taken this long to find him though. Cloud is almost out of his mind with worry.

Currently he's stood in reception at Kingdom Hearts General and he's badgering the nurse behind the station.

"Please will you just look again," he spells Squall's last name out slowly, just in case she hasn't heard right the first ten times.

"I'm sorry, sir, he's not here," she tells him firmly. She's losing her temper.

Cloud can't bring himself to step away from the desk. There's a line of sick people waiting behind him. He swallows a small cry of panic and frustration and steps back. Runs a hand through his hair and fights debilitating tears of frustration. He's never not known what to do before; what the next step is or where they're going. It's a terrifying feeling.

The ER is getting busier and Cloud has to shoulder past a few walking wounded to get to some space. Sits in a plastic chair underneath the TV and drops his head into his hands and tries to think. He could always start from the beginning again. Go back to the first hospital. But even in his desperation Cloud knows that would be fruitless. He needs more ideas. If only he knew the city better. He'd know where to look for Squall.

The static from the television breaks through Cloud's thoughts and he doesn't know why but he listens. Something about a break in and fire damage. A shop owner and his family barely get out alive.

Cloud feels familiarity sweep over him and he stands. Looks up at the screen. It's a burnt out shop front on a street down by the railway tracks. He knows the area vaguely. Remembers what Squall said. The conversation coming back to him in flashes.

 _Might get us enough to move to the next town..._

It's not relief that steals through Cloud's chest. It's too icy. Too sharp. Feels a lot like dread and fear.

He bolts. Knows exactly where to look now and runs the whole way down town. Doesn't have enough cash for the subway. Just runs and runs until the precinct is in view. Doesn't even slow down as he approaches the doors and flings himself inside. Demands to see the captain, the senior sergeant on duty, whoever! Doesn't matter. He just has to know if they have Squall.

Sergeant isn't looking too pleased and Cloud couldn't give two fucks. Just repeats himself again and yells a little louder.

"Wait here," sergeant tells him and disappears. Comes back only five minutes later. Face like a smacked ass, all pinched and affronted, and he curls a lip.

"He's here. Now get lost."

"I wanna see him," Cloud demands. No intention of going anywhere. He's doing his best to ignore the fact that it's all happening again. Squall's going away again.

"I said get lost," sergeant isn't taking his shit.

"What's his bail?" Cloud asks. He knows full well he'll never be able to post it. Doesn't matter what it is. Might as well be a million fucking dollars.

"Didn't set one. Kids not denying it. He's confessed to everything. Judge has already sentenced him."

Cloud feels his skin turn cold. Feels his stomach cramp and his balls jump back up where they came from. It's gotta be a joke.

"Quit fucking with me," Cloud warns. sergeant doesn't think it's funny. "I wanna see him."

"And I said no. Now get the fuck outta here before I arrest you too."

Wouldn't be the first time, Cloud thinks. He can't stop to appreciate the irony though. He has no choice. He has to leave.

Comforted only by the fact that he knows where Squall is, Cloud heads back to the motel and packs their shit together in five minutes flat. He doesn't bother to square up the bill and he heads back downtown to find a place to camp out. Close to the precinct. And waits.

* * *

Four years. Even Squall can't quite believe it. Seems like a decade of offending has finally caught up with him and this judge isn't pulling any punches. He's throwing the fucking book at him. Squall thinks he's lucky not to be getting longer.

Confessing helped. Less messy. Shows remorse. At least that's what Squall remembers one of his lawyers told him once. Right before Squall told him to stick his advice up his ass. He got six months that time. But casual vandalism isn't the same as arson and Squall knows he's in deep shit this time around. It's the longest he's ever been inside.

He thinks about Cloud. Feels more pain about leaving him in the wilderness more than he does about what he's done to that poor family. Does Cloud even know what happened to him?

It's his last night in the precinct before his transfer and he's got no idea where Atlantica Penitentiary is, but he's guessing it must be out of state somewhere. There's not much he can do about it either ways. He hopes Cloud will find him.

He whimped out on calling him. Gave up his free phone call. Squall tries to tell himself it wasn't because he was ashamed. Isn't sure he's convinced though.

Squall closes his eyes and rests back against the wall of his cell and tries to rationalise another four years of his life disappearing before his eyes. He'll be twenty five by the time he's done. He can't seem to put his finger on how that makes him feel, but it seems a lot like apathy. Strange that.

Didn't he used to care about things? Wasn't he once a person who felt and laughed and cried and got angry? He supposes that in his situation, a large hole of nothingness is better than emotion. He's not too sure he could deal with that.

He does miss Cloud though.

He squeezes his eyes closed tighter and thinks about something else.

* * *

First week in Atlantica and he's already in the shit.

It's a hell hole of a place. Concrete walls and floors, rusting iron work and low level lighting. Mould in just about every fucking corner and puddles of standing water from leaking pipes. Squall thinks this is a last two-fingered solute from the judge; four years wasn't enough for the old cunt. Squall thinks the sub-standard living conditions and the worst breed of criminals known to man are enough to make him even with his crimes. He guesses the judge had other ideas.

Squall shouldn't be here and he knows it. The three guys on the other side of the room know it too.

They've backed him into a supply closet at the back of the laundry room. Only a couple of industrial sized drums of detergent and an auxiliary boiler around. Nothing he can use to defend himself.

How Squall has made it this far in life without falling prey to the oldest cliché in the prison rule book he'll never know. But his luck is about to run out.

"Come on, princess. Quit teasin'."

"Fuck you," Squall doesn't know how his voice doesn't break. He's about three seconds away from pissing himself. Hands locked into fists and his knees shake so much he wonders how he doesn't keel over. He's weapon-less. Caught off guard. There's no one around in any direction and Squall thinks he might be the unluckiest son-of-a-bitch in the whole prison. Was this what the judge had in mind?

He puts up a good fight. He has to give himself that much. It's a small consolation and Squall doesn't think it'll count for shit in the long run but there's only so much he can do against three men twice as big as he is.

Once it's finally over all he can do is breathe through the pain. Feels the familiar vacant fog of another seizure claim him and he blacks out.

He wakes up in hospital. Not the shitty infirmary attached to the prison, but an actual hospital with proper doctors and nurses and medicine.

Must have been bad then.

He's handcuffed via a long chain to a guard who's sat in a plastic chair reading the paper. Ignoring him and bored as shit.

Squall's in pain so he doesn't move about too much. Just swivels his head to look about through fuzzy vision. Curtains are drawn around his bed space but he can hear the noise. It's a busy department.

He's no idea what time it is or what day even; how long he's been out or what the damage is. He doesn't want to look down and find out.

"Finally awake, huh?" the screw that's been assigned to watch him looks up from his paper. "Yeah, those boys got to you good," his face is grim and he shakes his head. Let's Squall know it's a bad business before he goes back to reading the sports.

Squall doesn't know why now, but he can't help it. He turns his head away and rakes his free hand through his hair and breaks down. He's not even trying to fight it. It would be an impossible task anyhow. Large fat tears leak out. He doesn't bother to wipe them away. His sobs are loud and he can't help that now.

The guard is staring at him like he's just discovered a ticking bomb. Looks about ready to shit himself. Raises a hand as if he might try and comfort the kid but he drops it quickly and shifts in his seat. Coughs deep in his throat and goes back to reading the paper. Best to let him get it out of his system, he tells himself. Best to let him keep what dignity he's got left.

It's a good few hours before the curtain is pulled back and a doctor sticks his head in. Sees his patient is awake.

"How long have you been having seizures?" He asks after a few minutes of routine checks. Takes his pulse and gauges his blood pressure.

"Since I was a kid," Squall shrugs. His voice is small.

"You ever take anything for them?"

Squall shakes his head and slips his wrist out of the doctors hold.

The doc doesn't look impressed and he writes out a prescription. Hands it to the guard and tells him to get it filled before they leave.

"Take these once a day. Any problems come back and see me."

And just like that he's discharged. Told he's fit enough to return to Atlantica. Squall respectfully disagrees but he doesn't say anything. Suffers through the indignity of a shower whilst still cuffed to the guard and he struggles to put his clothes back on.

* * *

Back in Atlantica and Squall is like a cat on a hot tin roof. Can't settle or relax. Always looking over his shoulder. The guard that was with him in the hospital keeps an eye out for him. Tells him if he has any more trouble to come find him; his name is Cid and he'll do what he can to keep the scumbag assholes away from him. It's little reassurance but Squall appreciates it. He never thought he'd be making friends with a screw but he can't deny he finds comfort in knowing he's looking out for him.

It's Cid who comes to find him and tells him he's got a visitor.

Squall is in his cell, sat on his bunk reading and trying to keep a low profile. There's only one person it can be and Squall feels his insides cramp up. Instantly he shakes his head. He can't face him. Not right now.

"You sure? It's a whole week till next visiting day," Cid looks surprised. Probably doesn't get very many inmates turning down a visit from someone on the outside.

Squall is damn sure though.

"Your call," Cid shrugs and disappears again and leaves Squall to wrestle with pangs of guilt and loathing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Nothing But Time – Part Four**

Cloud leans back in his plastic seat and folds his arms. Crosses his legs at the ankle and waits for the prison guard to come back and shake his head at him through the glass like he does every week.

Cloud's been getting stood up every Wednesday for the last two years and at this point it's a routine he can't break.

At first it was anger that drove him. Kept him coming back. Hoping Squall would change his mind and deign to see him. Maybe even explain himself.

Like clockwork, Cloud turns up, guard leaves and ten minutes later he's back and he shakes his head. Cloud is forced to leave again empty handed. Sometimes he stays till the end. Just as a protest.

But not today. He's got shit to do and when the guard eventually comes back sans prisoner and gives Cloud the signal, Cloud stands and doesn't even fight the sigh of frustration. Doesn't know how he hasn't given up by now.

He's checking out through the visitors security, collecting his keys and wallet when the prison guard on the desk hands him his phone and speaks to him for the first time.

"Why'd you keep coming back here?"

Cloud looks at his security tag: Cid Highwind. He thinks he recognises him and shrugs.

"Beats me," he replies and he honestly doesn't know any more. Squall doesn't want to see him. He's made that perfectly clear. But Cloud still can't let go. "See you next week."

* * *

"You're gonna lose him ya know," Cid comments as Squall sits up from the weights bench. Gives him a withered frown. "He ain't gonna hang around forever."

Squall won't admit that's what he's been hoping for all these years. Doesn't actually say anything. Cid is used to that by now.

"Pushing him away ain't gonna change what's happened," Cid is dangerously close to striking a nerve and Squall has to bite down to stop himself from snapping a revealing retort. He busies himself with a few bicep curls instead.

"Have it your way then. But you ain't got too many friends as it is to be treating him so badly. Might wanna think on that."

And it's all Squall has been thinking about since he got here. He can't even begin to describe the pain of missing Cloud. Every week is a test of endurance to see if he can keep his resolve. Every week it kills him all over again.

Squall knew before he even left the motel room that morning. A feeling deep in his gut that told him he was on the brink of something. The inertia of his life was changing. By chance or by force, he has hurtled himself towards an unstoppable future and he still isn't sure if Cloud will be a part of it or not. He tells himself every day he isn't testing Cloud. He is testing himself. But maybe that lie is starting to wear a bit thin and not even Squall can believe it anymore. He has been testing Cloud since the moment he disappeared without him, and Cloud – like the childhood hero he'd always wanted as a kid – had never failed him. Kept coming back no matter how hard he pushed. Refused to leave him no matter what he'd done. Could Squall ask any more of him than that?

"Wait," he calls over his shoulder. What will he say, after all this time, how will he face him?

Cid stops and turns. Looks at him hopefully.

"I'll see him," this won't make any difference, Squall tells himself. Cloud is still better off without him. But he does deserve an explanation and ignoring him hasn't been workings the way Squall had hoped it would. So he leaves the gym and follows Cid to the visiting rooms.

* * *

Cloud can't quite believe it. He was expecting the same old routine and when he hears the door open and he lifts his gaze in anticipation of the guard shaking his head at him, Cloud almost falls off his chair when he sees a familiar yet strange man standing in front of him.

There's two inches of bullet proof glass between them but it's like looking at a ghost. Cloud can't quite convince himself it's real.

Squall sits down and squirms a little in his seat under the close scrutiny. Slowly, he reaches out a hand and lifts the receiver and presses it to his ear.

It takes a few moments for Cloud to do the same but when he does he isn't prepared for that voice. He's missed it so much.

"Hi," Squall says.

Cloud is dumbfounded. Can hardly think. For so long he's imagined what he might say if Squall ever agreed to see him and now all he can think of is how much he's changed. He's no longer the scrawny, wiry youth he was before. He's filled out, his shoulders are broader and maybe he's even grown an inch or two. But Cloud thinks that might be his imagination. His hair is longer too. It's grown past his shoulders and it sways in front of his eyes as he peeks self-consciously at Cloud. Unable to hold much eye contact.

"Hi," Cloud can't stop staring.

"How have you been?" Squall asks him and Cloud wants to laugh. He feels it bubble up in the back of his throat but he doesn't make a sound. How has he been? His whole life has been on hold. He doesn't work without Squall and he wants to yell at him for leaving him but he just nods his head.

"Okay. You?"

Squall does the same, "Okay," he lies, "Why are you here?" Gets straight to the point. Same old Squall.

"I'm here every week," Cloud reminds him.

"I know, why?"

"You left," there's a note of fury in Cloud's voice. He thinks it's far too early in their conversation to be getting angry, so he checks himself and caries on, "I spent ages looking for you. I thought you were dead."

"Well I wasn't," the statement is self-serving and it infuriates Cloud. Squall is the only person who can anger him like that.

"Why won't you see me?"

"I'm seeing you now," Squall is being deliberately obtuse.

"You know what the fuck I mean Squall. Answer me," any ideas Cloud had about being calm and reserved are dissolving fast. Cloud thinks Squall might hang up and disappear but he doesn't. There's a long silence before he answers.

"Things were never going to change unless we made them," Squall's words echo Cloud's thoughts from all those years ago and he feels like he's right back there in that motel room, soothing Squall to sleep after his nightmare.

"We could have done it together," Cloud says quietly.

"No we couldn't," Squall shakes his head and Cloud knows he's right. Doesn't want to admit it. He knows what Squall is driving at but he won't give him the satisfaction. He's spent all this time waiting and hoping. He won't give up that easily.

"I'm gonna be here when you get out," he tells him. Has to fight back a lump in his throat as Squall shakes his head again and looks down. Won't meet his eye.

"Don't bother," Squall tells him. It sounds like his voice is breaking. "I don't want you to."

"Tough," Cloud's been waiting all this time, what's a couple more years?

"I won't be waiting for you."

Cloud thinks Squall is just saying these things to hurt. He has to be, "You don't mean that," and Cloud can't be sure that he doesn't. It's been so long, he can't read Squall like he used to.

"Don't come back," Squall tells him. Looks him dead in the eye and sears his hurtful words right into the place in Cloud's heart where he keeps Squall close.

And then Squall hangs up and he can no longer hear Cloud calling out to him. He can see the look of desperation in Cloud's eyes. Can see the panic and the fear. He looks away just as Cloud presses a hand to the glass and he stands and disappears back through the door he came out of. Allows Cid to walk him back to the cell block and he leaves the best part of himself behind. Tells himself it's for their own good.

* * *

Despite his warning, Cid comes to him each week and dutifully informs him he has a visitor. Each week Squall sends him away empty handed.

His test of endurance has now become a mantra and he must not give in. He knows what he's doing is right for them both. It's only a matter of time before Cloud sees it too. And there's nothing they've got more than time.

Squall sees his twenty fifth birthday pass without celebration before he hears from the parole board.

His release date has been set. In twelve weeks he'll be a free man again and the idea makes him nauseous. He's made his worst decisions as a free man. Wonders if he can give himself the routine and the discipline he needs.

"Don't tell him," he warns Cid who's come to tell him Cloud's here again.

Cid doesn't make him any promises and Squall wonders if he'll find Cloud waiting for him like he told him not to. Just like old times.

It's the old times he fears the most.

He has nothing else to do but sit and wait for his release date to arrive, and when it comes he finds himself almost drowning in the same thoughts and fears he used to. Seriously considers doing something rash so he can stay a little longer.

Inevitably he's led through security and he's given his possessions back. His clothes are too small for him now so they give him some from storage. Clothes from old prisoners that came in but never left.

It's Cid who walks him to the main gates and shakes his hand before he leaves.

"He's waiting for me, isn't he?" Squall asks but already knows the answer.

"Don't know what you've done to deserve him, but yeah. He's out there."

Squall swallows thickly and runs his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"Thanks, Cid; for everything," Squall says a little wistfully. He doesn't know how he would have made it through without him.

"Just don't come back," Cid warns.

And then Squall is outside and the worst four years of his life are behind him. The unknown in front of him.

He sees that head of blond, spiky hair and it feels like Deja vu. Like the last time all over again only this time it's different. He's different and he can't deny all that's happened to him hasn't changed him. He wonders how much it's changed Cloud.

He walks halfway across the lot and Cloud meets him in the middle. Stops in front of him and looks him up and down, a strange half-lost look on his face as Squall stares back.

"I told you not to come."

Cloud's lips twitch into a small smile and he looks up at Squall with large eyes, full of longing and regret and love.

"When have I ever listened to a word you said?"

Squall laughs because it's the truth. But its short lived and it dies on the soft breeze as he sobers.

"You waited, all this time?" it's not really a question, more like an incredulous statement and he feels a lump form in his throat.

Cloud steps forwards and wraps his arms around Squall's shoulders. Pulls him into a full bodied hug and it takes a moment or two for Squall to react. He slips his arms around Cloud's waist and holds him; buries his face into his neck and breathes him in. Can't quite believe the weight in his arms is really Cloud. But the smell of his skin and the feel of his hands in his hair are too familiar for it to be a dream and Squall lets out a silent sob. Let's his body quiver with relief and joy.

He allows Cloud to lead him back to a car and they both get in. Cloud drives and Squall opens the window a little to let the breeze in. He watches the scenery go by and then turns to watch Cloud; admires his profile and notices his hair is a little shorter. There are a few lines around his eyes now.

"Where are we going?" he asks and feels the distant tug of a memory; flashes of their past.

"Home," Cloud replies and turns his face to offer a small smile.

Squall is taken aback. He doesn't know what he is expecting but this answer isn't it. They've never had a home before. The concept is alien.

But he doesn't question Cloud. He trusts him just as he's trusted him in the past. Cloud always comes through for him. He lets Cloud drive and allows himself to feel that familiar comfort in his presence and Squall knows that no matter where they end up, so long as they are together, he is already home.

* * *

 _Steal once, pay twice_  
 _Advice to heed, I won't, I might_

 _You always said that love was not enough_  
 _Always on the move_  
 _Even though we're wrong to shut it up_

 _We could never choose_

 _Now we know there's nothing waiting up_  
 _Better than the truth_  
 _I wanted to be part of something_  
 _I've got nothing but time_  
 _So the future is mine_

Nothing But Time - Metric


End file.
